


étoiles

by pikatif



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Kissing, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan is a Brat, Lee Jeno Loves Cats, Love Confessions, M/M, Na Jaemin is Whipped, Neck Kissing, Pining, Volleyball, Volleyball AU, a smidge of luqi, inspired by haikyuu so don't kill me if rules are wrong, let mark live smh, lucas is finally a dreamie!, renjun is an angry bird, side markhyuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikatif/pseuds/pikatif
Summary: A bystander would think Jaemin had been witness to the sight before him too many times to count, but this Renjun was different from the small ball of fury who snapped at every single mistake and rolled his eyes at Jaemin’s flirting and faked vomiting when Mark and Donghyuck were being gross - that was Renjun off duty; right now he was witnessing Renjun on the battlefield. Pretty and petite but still a deadly bird of prey, Renjun lived up to his nickname as the Sparrowhawk as he leapt up to more than twice his height, the talons of his hands outstretched and ready to strike the ball that his gleaming eager eyes were commanding Jaemin to send his way.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 129





	étoiles

**Author's Note:**

> *has like 5 different wips*  
> *spends a month on this one shot*  
> haha so i made the mistake of rewatching haikyuu in preparation for s4 and NEEDED to write a lil something, so here have some renmin  
> honestly this just proves i can only write in nana or hyuck's pov smh

Jaemin didn’t have to turn his head to know that the footsteps behind him belonged to Renjun, cadences to the tune of his squeaking trainers from the friction caused by his rapidness, darting from the far side of the court to the net in the span of a heartbeat; a fluttering, exhilarated heartbeat that sounded for the smallest snippet of a moment, breath catching as the blood rushed upwards. Jaemin didn’t have to look at the spiker to know where to aim - they’d perfected their double act like a scene from a play, one that wrenched the audience out of their seats with excitement and awe, the air exploding into applause by the end - but he glanced towards Renjun anyway. 

A bystander would think Jaemin had been witness to the sight before him too many times to count, but this Renjun was different from the small ball of fury who snapped at every single mistake and rolled his eyes at Jaemin’s flirting and faked vomiting when Mark and Donghyuck were being gross - that was Renjun off duty; right now he was witnessing Renjun on the battlefield. Pretty and petite but still a deadly bird of prey, Renjun lived up to his nickname as the Sparrowhawk as he leapt up to more than twice his height, the talons of his hands outstretched and ready to strike the ball that his gleaming eager eyes were commanding Jaemin to send his way.

Jaemin always thought he looked prettiest in the harsh lighting of the volleyball courts, painting Renjun in striking shadows that highlighted his perfect form and lean body - he almost pitied all those who had called Renjun stupid for wanting to be a volleyball player just because he was _short_. Like honestly, how _rude,_ only the Dreamies could get away with calling him that (though they might show up to the next practice with a few more bruises than usual). If Jaemin ever met any of them, Jeno would probably have to restrain him from committing various crimes - maybe Yukhei too - he had no telling what sort of mad rage he’d descend into. 

With the momentum of his leap, Renjun’s hair puffed up and down in slow motion, and all Jaemin could think of was how badly he wanted to card his hands through those deep brown locks and tell him how stunning he was, nearly forgetting that they were in the middle of their second set of the finals, that they _really_ had to win back so their team could progress to nationals. Regretfully, Jaemin dragged his gaze away from his terribly unrequited love, etching the way Renjun’s icy stare and little triumphant grin begged Jaemin to toss to him, to listen to him, to obey him, into his memories.

However, the opposition’s No. 7, predicting all their moves like some sort of psychic, had been quite a pain in the ass the whole game (and was also responsible for turning the tide around so now Dream were losing, but Jaemin didn’t dare voice that theory aloud because Donghyuck would start another stubborn argument and their morale could do very well _without_ that, thanks), and without the distraction of staring hopelessly love-lost into the face of his crush, Jaemin got back into the game with a bang. Well, it was more of a slight _thunk_ than a big booming spike; he switched to a setter dump at the last moment, the ball plummeting downwards like a meteorite, crash landing and bursting into debris before the betrayed eyes of the other players, their arms outstretched as they landed on their stomachs in their vain attempt to receive the ball. 

_Dunk_ , and then silence. 

Jaemin exhaled as the crowd screamed, a bead of sweat falling from his nose as he bent over to regain some strength. Perhaps getting weak in the knees over Renjun earlier wasn’t such a great idea. But, he got the point, and that’s all that really mattered, right? The crowd seemed to think so, and the wretched expressions of the other team were more than worth the risky move in Jaemin’s opinion, who straightened with a smirk as he raked his eyes over each of the pitiful souls. His composure was once again ruined by a large, heavy hand slamming into his back, and he coughed on air as Yukhei’s smiling voice boomed across their half of the court. 

“Holy shit, that was fucking awesome, Nana!” A direct use of his nickname? Jaemin definitely deserved to be smug. 

Drunk on arrogance, Jaemin had completely forgotten about the toss he’d denied Renjun, and only once the cacophony of cheers and praise from the rest of his teammates was sliced apart by a very passionate yell did he remember what he’d done. He gulped, jerking around comically to face the angry bird fuming like an engine behind him, deciding that he was definitely the pig in this situation, and Renjun was probably the bomb bird. (The egg bombs weren’t an issue in this analogy, as the team was half convinced Renjun had his own form of a period, though Mark insisted that that time of the month was just when his aunt came to visit.)

As expected, Renjun was hunched over like the gremlin their 127 hyungs claimed him to be, seething as he stomped towards Jaemin. “What. The fuck. Was _that?_ ”

It took a moment for the ringing in Jaemin’s ears to clear as he recovered from Renjun’s outburst, a direct hit to his eardrums, and he lifted a hand to faintly tap at the area to check if he was bleeding; he wasn’t, so he returned to listening to whatever Renjun was going on about with a soft exhale. At first, the sigh was in relief at not bleeding profusely from any of his orifices, but somewhere along the way it evolved into a small little puff of affection at seeing Renjun’s pout and furrowed brows, his whole body moving with the force of his anger as he scolded Jaemin. He let himself melt at the sight, and due to Renjun’s sudden stutter and change in posture it must’ve been just as obvious as Jaemin felt it was. (He was so tired of pretending not to be whipped, and tired from their current match, so he kind of just gave up on hiding at this point.)

Renjun’s blush faded as quickly as it had arisen, his face falling into a scowl as he pointed in Jaemin’s face, “You’re drooling.”

“What? No, I- _No_.” He still wiped at his face just in case, his hands just as sweaty as they had been before he wiped whatever drool was (allegedly) hanging from his mouth. He scowled back for a second, but it was washed away by the wave of laughter from Renjun.

“I was kidding, we’re all soaked with sweat, so that shimmer on everyone you see isn’t highlighter,” His eyes shifted about the court, before returning to Jaemin and scanning him up and down, an act that sent another wave of heat and sweat over his entire body; he was so sure he would combust on the spot, right then and there, that he barely caught what Renjun continued to say, “at least, it’s not anymore.”

From the spiker’s single upturned brow, Jaemin could tell that was intended to be an insult, and was having none of it. “Uh, I don’t actually wear makeup to matches – these are the only events you get to see the true beauty of Na Jaemin, _au natural_.” Like Renjun said, it would only melt off anyway, and it wasn’t like he was self-conscious of the fact (but then again things were different when it came to Renjun – he made Jaemin feel things like he was suddenly transported to a different plane of reality where every sense was interpreted differently).

Renjun scoffed lightly, “I realised; I’m not blind.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. “Wait, you really noticed?” Jaemin didn’t even think Mark had realised, and _he_ actually lived in the same house as Jaemin.

“Yep,” Popping the ‘p’ and rolling back on his heels, a familiar glimmer returned to Renjun’s dark eyes, “You look terrible most days, but whenever we’re at a match you’re simply horrifying.”

And there it was, Renjun’s shallow, sharp, shameless insult – the spear of denial that he threw at Jaemin every day, but the target had become very good at dodging any fatal injuries. A scratch here or there, but that was it, and Jaemin could live with a few bandaids on his heart.

He settled into a lazy smirk, relaxing into the familiar situation eagerly, “If you’re so mad at me winning the point, then just beat me.” He tilted his chin up just a little, knowing it would motivate Renjun if he acted like a bit of an asshole, “Get _two_ points, can’t be that hard for our ace, right? Or is our lil Injunnie having an off day? -Is it your period again?”

Bristling, in a Studio Ghibli-esque way where his hair seemed to puff up like it was alive, Renjun retorted, “The only one bleeding around here will be _you_ if you don’t set to me.”

The lightning that seemed to pulse between them – a searing heat that threatened to take the two of them apart atom by atom – was cut short by the referee’s whistle, piercing through their veil of fire and jerking them back to the attention of the match. Fortunately, it was currently Jeno’s turn to serve, so neither of them were far from their positions, each of them stepping apart like the earth had split between them. The idea helped Jaemin aim, as if anything off by even a millimetre would go tumbling down into a deep abyss; he inhaled slowly, letting the oxygen calm him from the inside as it passed through his lungs, feeling the blood pump through his veins and his pulse beat in his wrists, hands poised to receive and set when ready.

Jeno’s serve was impeccable as always – not strong per se, but he always aimed in a corner so it also wasn’t easy to reach – and the opposition’s libero hit it back up, their setter moving as if to claim the ball next. It would’ve been a great decoy if their setter was any good at acting, but Jaemin could clearly see the small faults in his form – little details that signalled he was about to leap for a spike instead. Eyes darting across the court, he’d had a hunch that their No. 11 was a setter-in-training (being a first year and all), finding the boy staring hungrily at the ball in the air, hands raised for a set. Renjun was already marking the usual setter, having noticed the diversion even before Jaemin, so now all he had to do was nudge Yukhei next to him to mark their other spikers in case they tried a combo.

The ball shot from No. 11 towards the older setter, so Jaemin and Renjun responded in kind, timing their jump so their hands were blocking the view from the other side. The setter tried to redirect his hit at the last minute, but not to much avail; Renjun’s fingers tapped the ball, sending it flying up overhead. Donghyuck was on it immediately, and it only took a look from Jaemin to know the plan. Jaemin also caught sight in his peripheral of Mark rolling his eyes at the decision, but the ball was already up and Jaemin’s hands were poised and he could hear Renjun’s little pitter-patter across the laminate. It wasn’t exactly an opportunity – the other team were too focused – but if they wanted to win then they needed to give their ace a confidence high (something Renjun said he never needed, but they all knew he worked at 150% when he felt on top of the world, sending a ball rocketing downwards that no one could receive).

The ball skipped like a pebble across water until Jaemin lifted it up, the ball shooting straight through Renjun’s scope of aim, who had darted to the side of the court in a second and was approaching for a slice, facing perpendicular to the net. A satisfying _clap_ resounded as Renjun made contact, the ball plunging downwards like the comet that killed the dinosaurs; it may as well have been, due to the devastated looks of the opposition, each one struck dumb by the sheer speed of the attack. It wasn’t quite as shocking as Jaemin’s setter dump, so the barrage of applause and screams were instant, as were the tackles from the Dreamies.

“That’s our beautiful ace the gremlin!” Chenle’s call was followed by a squeak, probably from Jisung hitting him on the head for the rude remark, the bench never keeping either of them from being as boisterous as usual.

“I’m the fucking _Sparrowhawk_ , get it right next time or I’ll peck your fucking eyes out.”

Jaemin caught Mark scolding Renjun’s language (to which their ace only responded with a scoff), turning to see the members each jumping away from Renjun’s personal bubble as he stomped forwards, seething at Jaemin. Wondering what the hell he did this time, Jaemin gulped and looked up to the ceiling to pray to whatever gods might be out there to go easy on him for once.

Then Jaemin remembered why he was an atheist when Renjun grabbed him by the shirt and growled, “ _What_ are you doing? Are you trying to lose us the game? That set was terrible and reckless and the only reason we got the point was pure fucking _luck_.”

If he was being honest, Renjun’s small hands clawing at his shirt were sort of distracting him, but at the mention of luck it was Jaemin’s turn to scoff, “Luck doesn’t exist, we got the point because you’re just that fucking amazing, so take the credit and for the love of Jeno’s cats _please_ stop yelling at me!”

His chest heaved up, arching like a bridge, then collapsed back down as he finished, the motion calming Jaemin as Renjun blinked, certainly not expecting to be told off by _him_ of all people. Renjun’s mouth thinned as he nodded curtly, keeping quiet as he skidded over to his position, Jaemin letting out a deep sigh at the welcome silence. Any more nagging and he’d be deaf before they got to nationals – because they _were_ going and they’d beat this team in this very match.

The score was 19-20 to the opposition; they could get it back, definitely.

Jeno started the point with an equally not-so-nice serve as the last one, and the ball got spiked at least twice by each side before Yukhei finally managed to shut them out with a block, winning the point and getting them to a draw. Jaemin returned Yukhei’s earlier pat on the back (although the taller didn’t flinch at all like Jaemin had), but the cheers from their teammates were rendered pointless once Yukhei heard a certain girl cheering from the stands. Watching as Yukhei and Yuqi exchanged deep, booming compliments across the court, Jaemin slowly retreated to the back row in order to save his ears from that torture. Still, he smiled fondly at their bright expressions and great hand gestures, letting his mind wander and think about what he and Renjun might be like in a relationship.

His little mental wonderland of cute date ideas was ruined when the whistle blew again, snapping Jaemin to attention. He _really_ had to stop doing that, he thought as he shook his fringe out of his eyes, giving himself a sharp pinch for good measure. He thought he saw Renjun give him a disapproving tilt out of his peripheral, but couldn’t turn to check as the ball came hurtling towards him. He reached forward with his arms, deciding it was too fast and far out to turn into a set, hoping that Donghyuck was behind him to bring it back up – but the ball switched course at the last minute, Jaemin cursing as he tried to adjust his body to the movement. He made contact, but the ball flew past the back line defences and landed with a crushing _smack_.

" _Shit_ ,” He wasn’t supposed to have lost them the fucking point.

Glaring at his shoelaces and ignoring the victorious howls of the opposition, Jaemin tried to nod at the reassuring comments coming from Jeno and Mark and Yukhei, Donghyuck cursing his own slow reaction from farther back, Renjun’s footsteps edging closer. The feet stopped just a few inches from Jaemin, so close he could see the worn orange and blue Nikes, and Jaemin grit his teeth in preparation for another earache.

Instead, he received a light punch in the gut as Renjun yelled, “Don’t fucking stare off into space and then _maybe_ you won’t lose track of the ball.”

Playing up the pain of the hit (that hadn’t actually hurt at all, Jaemin was just a drama queen – it was times like these that Mark commented how good a soccer player he’d have made – but anyways), Jaemin whined back that the hit was ‘impossible to receive’, to which Renjun elaborated that the ball had spun at a weird angle off the blocker’s palm, and if Jaemin hadn’t been daydreaming he’d have noticed and corrected his stance because he’s “a nuisance not an idiot” – which he supposed was as close to a compliment he’d gotten from Renjun that day, but the cloud of shame he was cursing over Jaemin didn’t exactly lighten anyone’s mood.

Before Jaemin could talk back, Mark stepped between them, “I know this is a stressful situation and we’re all tired from the week of matches and constant training, but if you two don’t get your shit together one of you’s gonna get sent off to cool down.” He exhaled, placing a gentler hand on each of their shoulders, “Look, I know things are always- _tense_ with you two, but you’re also our best players and you’re unstoppable when you actually stop being babies and cooperate, so _grow_ _the fuck up_ please.”

Jaemin settled at Mark’s words as Renjun huffed, amused, “Does that mean the bench is the naughty step?”

Mark grinned back, “Well, Chenji are on it, if that’s answer enough.”

Speak of the devils and they shall appear, both of them cupping their hands over their mouths so their voices could reach across the court (even though they were already overqualified in the loudness department), “I called it, Nana’s still a shitty receiver! You owe me sushi, Hyuckie!”

“And Renjun’s clearly on his period! Mark, you owe me twenty dollars!” Jisung’s addition made Chenle let out his dolphin-like giggle, but all noise was cut off after they saw the daggered glare Renjun was pointing at them.

“I never even made a bet with you, plus we’re in Korea why would you want _dollars?_ ” Jaemin and Renjun both snickered at Mark’s incredulous stare.

Jisung rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, “Okay, boomer.”

“I’m three years older than you, I’m not fifty!” He stumbled back to his position still muttering under his breath, “I get no fucking respect from anyone.”

Once Mark was out of the way and being consoled by Donghyuck (which probably meant getting teased even worse so that he forgot about their youngest’s disrespect), Renjun let out a wheeze that Jaemin could only mirror. However, when the whistle blew they snapped back into their usual glares, the tension between them not completely forgotten. Renjun was being particularly stubborn today, and Jaemin honestly couldn’t tell why no matter how hard he squinted and looked through his memories – until he smacked his cheeks to get himself to focus on the game instead.

The opposition served hard and fast, but it was nothing Donghyuck couldn’t deal with, so the ball was Jaemin’s for the taking. Mark called for combo 2, Jeno and Renjun criss-crossing each other to the other side of the court in a heartbeat at the command. Another heartbeat, and Jaemin felt the ball grace his fingers, and by the next it was up in the air, shooting past Renjun’s aim and towards Jeno’s, who slammed the ball down the line where the other players couldn’t reach. He could feel Renjun’s irritation at being used as a decoy yet again, but it was blindsided by the angelic eye smile Jeno gave as Mark and Donghyuck passed their compliments.

Alright, Jaemin’s ‘Jeno phase’ had passed long ago, but he could still appreciate a gorgeous man without any ulterior motives, come on. Unfortunately at the time, the only person Jaemin trusted as his love guru was Mark, who was probably the densest, clumsiest, dumbest being on the planet when it came to crushes, so his advice wasn’t very helpful on the matter. Regretfully, Jaemin danced around his feelings for Jeno for months until he finally gave in and asked Donghyuck for his oh-so-sacred opinion; he told Jaemin to confess (read: forced Jaemin to confess by locking the pair in the locker room after practice one fateful Thursday afternoon), so that happened and he learned that contrary to popular belief, it was in fact Jeno who was actually the densest, clumsiest, dumbest being on the planet when it came to crushes.

He’d never seen Jeno like a guy or a girl – hell, he’d only ever seen him show affection to his _cats_ – and Jeno very clearly laid out that he wasn’t interested in Jaemin the same way, but they remained close friends. Turns out Jeno was just incredibly nice and naturally adorable (as well as hot, but we’re trying to keep it PG around here), and Renjun transferred the next month anyway so Jaemin very quickly had a new focus in his life.

Donghyuck especially never let Jaemin live down the fact that he jumped ship so quickly, but he insisted that something about Renjun was completely different and alluring in a way that Jaemin had never felt about anyone before. It’d taken him months of misinterpreted flirting with Jeno to bloom any actual feelings, but it was just one look at Renjun’s princely features and adorable scowl that made Jaemin melt into a rainbow-coloured slushie. Not to mention the first thing he ever heard him say was that he’d murder the next person to call him short and make it look like an accident because he wasn’t afraid to use his biochemistry powers of doom, or something.

Still, not even Yukhei could deny that Jeno looked good when he spiked, so Jaemin let himself think out loud, “Damn, I’d let Jeno spike me any day. Honestly, next practice I volunteer as the ball.”

Jeno made a small sound of confusion as he turned, “That wouldn’t be very practical _or_ safe?”

Sighing, Jaemin sent a lazy smile over, “Why do I bother,”

“I stopped a long time ago.” Renjun suddenly appeared, smirking up at Jaemin in a way that made him want to kiss it away.

“A wise decision,” Donghyuck joined Renjun’s side, high-fiving as they smugly doubled up on a lone Jaemin.

He groaned, “God, you’re a fucking pain in the ass, Hyuck.”

“Don’t you mean you want a piece of my ass?” At Mark’s strained cough, Donghyuck added, “Well, unlucky for you, I’m off limits.”

Renjun raised a brow, “I was about to say, he’s only a pain in the ass to our lovely captain.”

“Focus on the match!” They didn’t have to look to know Mark was fuming, both from embarrassment and anger, so they zipped their mouths and got back into positions.

The next point was a lot more drawn-out, Mark’s jump serve throwing the opposition off-kilter for the first few moments until they regained their balance by blocking out three consecutive spikes from the Dreamies, Donghyuck tumbling across the hard floors for every receive while Jaemin struggled to find an appropriate opening for Renjun or Jeno, deciding at one point to give the ball to Yukhei because of his height advantage – but that shitty No. 7 predicted the move and blocked the ball out, costing them the point, no matter how valiant a charge Donghyuck gave to reach the ball.

It was 21-22 with the other team in the lead again, and if they didn’t gain the advantage they’d be stuck in this risky tug-of-war that would cost them their stamina. Jaemin knew he was being switched out before the referee even blew the whistle, taking his number card from Chenle as they passed each other. The younger gave a mischievous toothy grin that could only spell trouble, so Jaemin returned the evil look with full force, knowing the enemy were in for a real treat with this demon.

While Jaemin was all accuracy and strategy and gazing hopelessly at Renjun, Chenle was a setter blessed by Satan with the ability to spin the ball in whatever way he needed – the good old topspin? Easy, it goes zoom. You wanna mix it up with backspin? He can do that too. You want no spin at all and really fuck with the player’s sense of mind? That’s actually his favourite kind! In a way, he was a sort of pinch server, but in reality he was the player that signalled the change to a full-on attack strategy, rather than a solid mix of offense and defence. No doubt the next turn Donghyuck would get swapped out too, so Jaemin treasured his sole minute of silence as the next point played out before him, slapping Jisung’s fingers away from his mouth as he heard the click of biting next to him.

The opposition began with a jump serve, but the nerves must’ve gotten to the poor soul because it wasn’t exciting at all – it didn’t zoom or whistle – and it dove straight to the centre of the court where Mark picked it up with ease. Chenle practically pounced on the ball, jumping up so he reached it early, leaving half a second for anyone to get in position for a spike, but Jaemin didn’t view the play with such shock and horror as the crowd, their gasps sucking a third of the oxygen out of the hall so it seemed stuffier. Jaemin mirrored Renjun’s lazy grin as the spiker leapt up right on the spot, timing his jump perfectly so that his left hand reached the ball and hit it cross-court, close to the net because of the angle. Smack, then a sharp toot from the whistle, and Jaemin was cheering with his teammates (a hand curled around Jisung’s shirt so he wouldn’t bound over to the court like a dog who’d spotted a squirrel).

The whistle blew again for a swap, soon followed by Donghyuck’s whiny protests – something about not even getting to touch the ball during that last point, to which Mark pushed him away while pleading for him to stop being a crazy masochist for one minute – and Jaemin let go of Jisung’s shirt so he could join his other half on the court.

“I thought you liked me all bruised and beaten up?” Donghyuck drawled, so Jaemin purposefully looked away to save himself from the gross look their libero was definitely giving their captain.

Thankfully, Renjun started yelling again. “You two can dirty talk _after_ we win this fucking match.”

“But it’s only fun when we’re in public,” He countered, but Donghyuck was already settling into his spot beside Jaemin with petty mumbles.

When Mark spared a second for the sole purpose of scowling at his boyfriend, Jaemin couldn’t help but snort. “How did you two even _happen?_ ”

Donghyuck only wiggled his eyebrows, “That’s classified information, Nana.”

He shrugged: fair enough. Jaemin was already turning his attention back to the game, hissing at Chenle’s downright evil jump float.

Unfortunately, Donghyuck was still nattering on. “It’s a tale combining mystery, romance, and thriller, all in an epic 900-page novel. I’ll warn you now: it involves a rainy day and the market street by the library, as well as some steamy kisses.”

Jaemin was starting to tune him out as his gaze naturally brushed past Renjun’s perfect form as he feinted, now fixated on every twitch Renjun made as the stars in his eyes locked onto their target.

Donghyuck’s hum broke into Jaemin’s thoughts, and he flinched at the noise. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it when you confess to Renjun.”

Uninterested in the provocation, Jaemin just hummed in reply, his attention in the grip of the cold gust of adrenaline that flapped up from Renjun’s next jump and spike. He cursed when the spike got picked up by that fucking No. 7 again, slumping over in his seat with a frown.

Apparently ignoring the game entirely, Donghyuck was still talking. Jaemin was about to forcefully snap his jaws shut himself when Donghyuck turned to face him, commenting, “You’re welcome on that, by the way.”

“Huh?” Since when did Jaemin owe any form of thanks to Lee Donghyuck?

“Well, now Renjun’s angry at me after that whole spiel with Mark, so it’ll be easy for you to confess now that his period stress isn’t being directed at you.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbled in reply, “You all _do_ know that Injun doesn’t get periods ‘cause he’s a dude, and that this is _all_ a running gag, right?”

“Oh, and since when did you sneak a peek?” He allowed Jaemin to choke on air for a second, but not for the boy to correct himself. “Either way, you’re gonna confess to him after this whether you like it or not, so heads up.”

Having only recovered from his fit and still barely processing Donghyuck’s rambles, Jaemin had to physically hold him back from saying anything else because whatever brain cells that’d survived midterms would actually disintegrate if they had to cope with another word of information. Donghyuck got the message and his mouth shut, teeth clacking, as Jaemin recomposed himself (simultaneously using every fibre of restraint in his body to not turn around to glance at the majestic spike Renjun was definitely making out the view of his peripheral).

He took a deep breath, “And what exactly makes you think that I’m going to confess?”

Donghyuck raised his brows, his shock genuine from the way his shoulders stiffened. “You forgot about the bet?”

“Hyuck, do you _know_ me?” Jaemin made a bet twice daily – on a good day – so on bad days (like when he got piss-drunk or had a test he hadn’t studied for and had drunk a dozen shots of espresso to cope with the fact) he made _hundreds_. Most of them were throw-aways that no one would hold him to, others where he made impossible bets or the rewards were negligible, so he’d gotten into the habit of making the most ridiculous bets like it was a ritual. He vaguely remembered once betting a pet zebra if the old lady at the pharmacy till had a stroke on the spot, and if she didn’t then Jisung would have to confess to being a furry over the school speakers. For one thing, he didn’t have a zebra, for another the old lady turned out to be an old man, and the pharmacy was a couple miles away from campus. (There was also the fact that Jisung wasn’t even with him when he made the bet, and that he claimed he wasn’t a furry, but did that matter to him? No, not at all.)

A scathing look was all the answer he needed to that question, so Donghyuck continued instead with, “Well, that time we all got drunk on that school trip because the stew was cooked in alcohol, then seasoned with alcohol, and had alcohol in the side sauce, and alcohol spiked in the drinks, you said that if we won regionals you’d confess to Renjun straight afterwards – or, should I say, _not-straight_ afterwards.”

Mercifully ignoring Donghyuck’s terrible attempt at a pun, Jaemin groaned at his dumb drunk past self, instead fishing for more information, “Who else knows about the bet?”

Donghyuck listed on his fingers (never a good sign), “Mark, Jeno, Yukhei, pretty sure Chenle heard about it, I told Jisung the other week because he was bitching about you instead of practising receives and it was the only way to motivate him _and_ shut him up, oh and I think Mark mentioned it to 127 last practice.”

Well, shit. There was no way he could escape that many demons all at once, especially not as they were all buff scary trees called volleyball players, and he felt his mind slowly sink into a ravine of despair that had torn when he realised he would actually have to face his feelings _and_ take them on. Not wanting a repeat of the Jeno incident, he could only give a weak nod to show Donghyuck he’d been listening, and received a reassuring pat on the shoulder in return.

Jaemin redirected his focus from the pit in his stomach back to the game, noticing the scoreboard now said 24-22. In all his panicking and arguing with Donghyuck, he’d missed the team get to match point. A little voice inside his head announced that it must’ve been Renjun’s doing, but the rational part of him knew it was actually the maknae duo – and he realised just then how utterly enchanted he was by Renjun, not just whipped, but so in love it was as if the boy had cast a spell (or a curse) on Jaemin. However, upon closer inspection of the game (a difficult task since the ball was being passed around like a hot potato on steroids), he noticed Yukhei time a block too late, the ball hurtling downwards – Mark dove to receive it, but it flew too high and ended up on the other side of the net. Their spikers wasted no time in slamming the ball down, but Jisung reached the ball for a one-touch, Chenle panicking and setting the ball instead of receiving it so the aim was off and neither Renjun nor Jeno could reach the ball as they gave a valiant leap. The ball flew past Yukhei too, but that No. 11 got a hold on the ball, Jaemin noticing the shift in hand positions just before the setter dump hit the ground.

All thoughts of the bet out of his mind, Jaemin turned to Donghyuck in a state of panic, “What the fuck? What happened just then? How the fuck did we get so out of sync?”

He found the libero almost baring his teeth, growling, “That No. 7 has been fucking with us the entire time, I think he finally got to ‘em. Chenle and Jisung are great players, but they’re inexperienced in how to deal with tricks like his.”

“Fucking prick,” Jaemin joined the effort of driving a sword through No. 7 with their glares, adding as an afterthought, “Do you think they’ll need you back for defence?”

Donghyuck furrowed his brows for a moment. His eyes twitched, then his face lifted, and he turned to grin at Jaemin, “Actually, I think Seulgi’s calling for _you_ to switch, right now.”

“Really?” Jaemin’s head jerked to see their coach clapping at him and mouthing ‘chop-chop’ as she held Chenle’s number card in her hand.

A push from Donghyuck, a couple more strides, and Jaemin was taking the card from Seulgi, her smile calming whatever jitters he had out of him, his hands steady as he then gave it over to a dejected Chenle.

He nudged the younger with his foot, “Hey, you know what they say,”

Chenle completed the quote automatically, smile already returning, “When life gives you lemons!”

And then they hummed the stupid tune to the stupid vine before parting ways, Jaemin sticking his tongue out at a very offended looking Renjun. “Did you _actually_ just quote a vine in 2019?”

“Yup, and it’s pronounced twenty-bi-teen, young padawan.” He took his position next to their ace, all previous thoughts of despair swept away as he looked into those deep brown eyes full of stars that sparkled and he adored. “Because your resident chaotic bi is here to rescue your sorry asses.”

Renjun smirked, and that only made Jaemin love him more, “If I remember correctly, your last girlfriend ghosted you.”

Face falling into a scowl because that one _hurt_ , Jaemin tried to reason that she’d moved back to Dubai (and he didn’t really like her that much anyway because of a certain someone owning his heart and soul), but his exclamations were drowned and murdered by the referee’s whistle. The serve was middling, and Mark picked it up easily, Jaemin stepping past Renjun to pick it up for a set to Jisung, who bypassed the blockers with a feint. The opposition still kept it up though, and hit back with a combo, but Jaemin saw the spiker in the back and managed to get a one-touch in. The ball skipped off Mark to Jeno to Jaemin again, and however much he wanted to sate Renjun’s need for the ball, Yukhei was in a much better position and hit a straight down the side of the court. That would’ve won it if it weren’t for No. 7 swinging his leg out to keep the ball alive, the thing hurtling past and bobbing around until it was spiked towards Jaemin, his only choice to receive. As the ball went up again and he saw Mark move to hit it back for a set, Jaemin shot a glance in Renjun’s direction, their eyes connecting in a lightning strike as they agreed on a plan.

Before long the ball graced Jaemin’s fingertips, his breath steady as his stance while Renjun’s trainers squeaked across the floor, a melody of déjà vu. He gave a small jerk of his hands, enough spin for it to shoot over in the blink of an eye towards Renjun, his spike coming into contact almost immediately after Jaemin’s set. A slap sounded as his hand met the ball, and Jaemin turned to see the battle take place in slow motion. At some point, Renjun’s shirt had wriggled out of the hem of his shorts, allowing Jaemin to glimpse part of his toned stomach, every muscle rippling like waves in the storm of Renjun’s spike, the ball having already made contact and now on course for its destination on the shimmering floor the other side of the net.

Jaemin didn’t bother turning to see the other players swarm forwards for an unachievable rescue; he knew they’d won. Every part of him was fixated on Renjun, drawn to him like a moth to flame, the flame of a star, stars that twinkled in Renjun’s eyes as they reflected the ball hitting the ground.

_Thump_. The first was the ball. _Thump_. The second was Renjun’s landing. _Thump_. The third was Jaemin’s heart.

The cheers muted around him as his focus zoomed in on Renjun, the details crisp like artwork, only more magnificent when he turned to beam at Jaemin with a blinding grin, his eyes sparkling like a supernova ready to burst with excitement and joy. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning back like the Cheshire Cat as he watched Renjun collapse in on himself, shaking with laughter and pent-up stress from the match, letting it all go like the breath Jaemin finally released. It was a perfect moment, one that Jaemin wanted to wrap up tight and hold to his chest like a precious newborn. Renjun was perfect, and Jaemin wanted so badly to wrap his arms around him, kiss him warm, and whisper truth in his ear.

His sigh turned to words before he could stop himself, “I love you.”

Both boys halted at the confession, their ears suddenly overcome with the noise of the stadium as well as a red tint, suddenly rendered incapable of doing anything but stare at each other like shocked kittens. Oddly, (though he still wanted to bury his head into the depths of the earth until he got far down enough to be consumed by hell,) Jaemin didn’t regret his confession. Breath held tight, he waited as Renjun opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and maybe Jaemin would’ve regretted his terrible timing if the sight of Renjun blubbing like a fish wasn’t so adorably funny. He didn’t get an answer just then, any words Renjun might have started to say washed away by the rest of their teammates stampeding over to throw Renjun up in the air like Simba, then proceeding to parade him around the court like the idiots they all were.

Jaemin’s smile only widened at the sight, his gaze locking once more with Renjun held up in the air, and for a second he thought he saw a smidge of that familiar love-lost look in his eyes.

It wasn’t until Jaemin had managed to dart past the rest of his team and weave through the forest of friends and family (and positively yeet himself past 127 when he caught sight of mother hen Taeyong preparing to pounce on the first Dreamie he caught sight of), then finally find solace in the toilets, that he had the chance to collect his thoughts and emotions. The ones highlighted in a garish warning-sign red were panic and disbelief and overwhelming yearning, but as Jaemin scanned himself in the greasy mirrors he found the footnotes: hope, confidence, faith. Faith in himself to not fuck this up, and otherwise faith that he and Renjun would remain on good terms no matter what the outcome might be. He took a deep breath, ignoring the toilet stench as best he could, straightened his back and then began to stroke his hair to the side in an attempt to tame the sweaty, frizzy mess of pink. He hadn’t succeeded at all when the door was swung open behind him, the footsteps a familiar tune.

“You just _had_ to confess right when the Ents began their ritualistic parade.” He heard Renjun’s smile rather than saw it, his joking tone easing Jaemin’s nerves slightly. “And you know I’m always the tribute.”

Jaemin bit his lip, sparing only a second to glance at Renjun through the mirror before whipping around to face him properly. Right, he was gonna do this properly. He locked his eyes with Renjun’s, twinkling with amusement, as he replied, “I couldn’t help it, you were too perfect.”

It was true, though a little cheesy. Jaemin didn’t have it in him to cringe at himself, enthralled by the way Renjun was taking him in as if he’d had a makeover since they last stepped off the court, instead focusing on trying not to blush like a school girl.

Renjun took a step forward, his lips curling into a smirk as his eyes narrowed, “So, the rest of the time I’m not worthy of such a confession?”

“No,” Jaemin’s whimper was instant as he felt himself teetering on the edge of a rope, barely holding enough balance to not fall into the deep sea of pining below, “you’re always perfect, Jun. But today- today you were so much more than perfect.” _You were irresistible_ , he wanted to say, but that was too much for even him to get away with.

Renjun’s smirk dropped and Jaemin sensed the way his breath caught for a moment before he reverted back to his usual self, rebuking, “You can’t have _more_ than perfect, Nana, that’s impossible.”

But he’d stepped closer again, and now Jaemin could feel the air coming from Renjun as he laughed brushing his face, warm and light. Speaking again, this time Jaemin stepped forward, “Anything’s possible when it comes to you.”

They were a bare few inches apart and now Jaemin could see the light blush on Renjun’s cheeks, and now it was Jaemin’s turn to smirk at the sudden panic that swept over the other boy. Still, he managed to mumble a weak response, lips pouting slightly, “Perfection isn’t even real, dumbass,”

“No, I think it’s subjective, and you’re perfect to me.” At Renjun’s reddened face and incredulous glare, he chuckled and leaned closer, “Your crankiness, your brightness, your cuteness,” _your voice, your eyes, your lips,_ “even the bad things are all perfect.”

They were so close now they were breathing the same air, their scents mixing together, sweaty and intoxicating. Jaemin let his eyes close, their noses bumping gently as he felt Renjun’s cheeks curl into another smile, asking in a dazed whisper, “And what are the bad things?”

Wetting his lips, Jaemin let his eyes flutter open slightly so they could trace the curves of Renjun’s face, down to his mouth. “The only bad thing right now is that you’re not kissing me.”

Like a whistle had been blown, Renjun’s hands shot to their position around Jaemin’s neck, pulling him in so their lips could finally meet, his head tilting so they fit together like two halves of a whole. Again, it was more than perfect – more than anything and everything and nothing Jaemin had ever imagined it would be – and even such an innocent, warm kiss left his heart doing cartwheels and somersaults, though the sound of its beating was drowned out by the sheer closeness of Renjun. They broke apart, Jaemin gasping despite the shortness of the kiss, his gaze lingering shamelessly on Renjun’s still-parted lips.

A moment passed, then Renjun wheezed slightly, “You know you can kiss me too, Jaemin.”

“Uhh,” Admittedly, he’d been in a dreamlike haze after the kiss, and had sort of forgotten about the passage of time. (It felt like the moment could last forever.)

“Dumbass,” Renjun teased, the insult holding more affection than it had before, and Jaemin felt a small shiver rake his body as small hands fiddled at the nape of his neck, “I love you too. Have for a while, actually, but you were too blind to notice.” He let out a small giggle, “ _Big_ dumbass.”

If their proximity wasn’t infuriatingly hot enough, those words set Jaemin ablaze, and his brain’s only valid response was to dive back down and find Renjun’s soft lips, arriving at his new home with a muffled noise of longing. This time there was a fire burning between them – no longer the innocent, pretty sparks of before – and Jaemin stirred the flame up, twisting his head to deepen the kiss, relishing in the soft pokes of Renjun’s fingers at the back of his head, and the sensations that shook his body when he found a pressure point. Jaemin’s own hands found their place on Renjun’s waist, snaking under his un-tucked shirt with ease, smiling against Renjun’s lips when he felt the boy shiver under his touch.

Jaemin pulled Renjun flush against him, using the movement to break through into Renjun’s mouth, mapping its treasures with his tongue, though the real prize was the soft moan that melted from without. He retaliated by prodding at the weak points he’d memorised on the back of Jaemin’s skull, each nail like a bolt of lightning fuelling the flames even further. Soon, Renjun’s hands were fisting into Jaemin’s hair – a new sensation that forced a growl to slip from his mouth as he brought it out of the wet kiss, instead pouncing on the soft flesh of Renjun’s open neck. Renjun gasped for the peace of air as Jaemin raked his tongue over his skin, tasting the salt of fresh sweat, its oddly sweet aftertaste addictive, only making him lap it up with more fervour. Every reaction fed the fire, keeping it burning hot as a star, and Jaemin was left to burn in it, wondering if this was what true love, true passion, felt like all along.

He nipped at the skin, smiling dumbly into the wound as Renjun let out a sharp moan, mentally hitting himself for _taking so damn long to_ _fucking confess, goddammit_. (Huh, even his conscience was starting to sound like Renjun – or maybe that was just the Voice of Admonishment.) His thoughts were soon wrenched off their tracks when he felt something hot and wet against his jaw, opening his eyes to find Renjun returning some of the favour, his heat seeping upwards but only sending chills over Jaemin’s body and soul. His heart had surely become a gymnast by now, with the amount of crazy acrobatics going on inside him at this point, but even that thought was overwhelmed by the feeling of Renjun licking against his ear. All rationality was murdered in an instant, thrown to the fire, when Renjun bit down, and suddenly Jaemin was back to the growling animal tasting the flesh of his love with nothing but ravenous kisses.

Renjun’s hushed voice was raspy, though still melodic, as he breathed into Jaemin’s ear, “That was for nearly losing the match, by the way.”

Jaemin released Renjun from his mouth’s hold, pulling back to study his expression: red face, blushed lips, and glazed but still glittering eyes. This time he knew those sparkles were made of adoration, smiling at the realisation that _yes_ , Renjun did actually love him back, and _no_ , this was not a dream. He dove down once more, though his landing was that of a graceful swan, landing in the pool of Renjun’s lips with a light tap. It lasted one sweet second that might’ve been eternity in another life, and after breaking away Jaemin noticed Renjun’s eyes spark to attention, widening in confusion.

Before Renjun even asked, Jaemin answered, “And that’s for _winning_ the match.”

On cue, the boy bloomed into a proud smirk, hands reaching up to pull Jaemin back down to continue their make-out session – until the door creaked open and a cracking voice followed.

“Oh. My. _Shit_.” Jaemin was about to scold Jisung for language when he continued with the deafening screech of “ _GUYS_ YOU HAVE TO COME SEE THIS-”

The shouts were silenced with a single glare from Renjun, apparently also threatening enough to make the poor boy run for his life. “Oh, I’m gonna _murder_ that little bastard,”

Jaemin gave a melodramatic gasp, “Junnie, that is our _son!_ ” He turned Renjun’s face back to him with a hand on his still-red cheek, stifling a snicker that almost escaped him at the sight of Renjun rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’d rather keep you _here_ for a few more minutes.”

“And bear the embarrassment of the rest of the team and their entourage witnessing us face-sucking each other like Dementors?”

“One: our kiss was not that gross; and two: they’re gonna have to get used to seeing us making out sooner or later, so why not sooner?”

“Ugh, you’re gonna be worse than Hyuck with Mark, aren’t you?”

“Bet it.”

Before Renjun could voice his concern for Jaemin’s gambling habits, his lips had settled on their new home.

**Author's Note:**

> well FUCK me that was too long kjaskjahsjh  
> im v sorry ok i PLANNED to include xiaohenyang but wrote most of this after brain-deading homework so i forgot and cba to edit it all im sorryyy  
> also mark is a transfer which is why he lives w/ jaemin, and jisung skipped a year which is why he's on the team, if we're going by haikyuu rules and only having three years, but idk i set this in korea so that's probably wrong oh well


End file.
